"Want meat fer supper?" asked the landlord, a tall, gaunt man who
considered himself dressed when he was in his shirt sleeves.

"What kind of meat?" inquired Uncle John, cautiously.

"Kin give yeh fried pork er jerked beef. Ham 'a all out an' the
chickens is beginnin' to lay."

"Eggs?"

"Of course, stranger. Thet's the on'y thing Spotville chickens lay,
nowadays. I s'pose whar yeh come from they lay biscuits 'n' pork
chops."

"No. Door knobs, sometimes," said Mr. Merrick, "but seldom pork chops.
Let's have eggs, and perhaps a little fried pork to go with them. Any
milk?"

"Canned er fresh?"

"Fresh preferred."

The landlord looked at him steadily.

"Yeh've come a long-way, stranger," he said, "an' yeh must 'a' spent a
lot of money, here 'n' there. Air yeh prepared to pay fer thet order
in solid cash?"

Uncle John seemed startled, and looked at the Major, who smiled
delightedly.